


what dawn brings us

by watergator



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Apocalypse, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, No Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-10
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-07-29 05:47:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16257896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/watergator/pseuds/watergator
Summary: after the events of a devastating apocalypse, dan and phil learn that in order to survive, they must leave the comfort of their home and venture out into the new changed world to start their lives over. together.





	1. Chapter 1

They’re not safe here. Their apartment no long holds the warmth and security it once did, and even with the door locked and secured, double checked each time, they know they can’t stay here any longer.

The world had managed to fall apart fairly quickly. It was a downhill turn of events that had inevitably started the beginning of the end.

From what Dan and Phil had managed to hear from broken broadcasts and panicked radio stations, it had been a virus that had suddenly gotten airborne and spread throughout the country. And that was all the knew. They didn’t know the state of the rest of the world, if they’d succumbed to the same fate their own country had come to. Signals went down and the country shut off from itself before they had any answers to the millions of questions everyone wanted to ask. But there was no time for that. No time to dwell, really, but instead to just move.

They knew they weren’t safe when the heard the screams and gurgles of their neighbour through the wall next door, trapped in his own apartment as he turned into something he wasn’t.

They’d been too afraid to leave since.

And now as they curl up on the sofa together, perhaps trying to preserve their last night here in their home, they hear their neighbour continue to walk and bump into the walls surrounding them with low groans and sounding something not human. 

“We’ll leave at dawn,” Phil whispers to Dan as he cards his fingers gently through his hair.

Dan swallows the lump in his throat and nods, too afraid to even raise his voice in his own home in fear that the monster next door will hear them and burst through the wall somehow; turning them into whatever he was already.

They have sex that evening. It’s slow and sweet and they drag it out as long as possible. They don’t care about messing the sheets, and instead let all their inhibitions go. They cling to each other with fingernails in skin and long, wet, deep kisses as they enjoy this last moment that they’ll ever be this close again. They finish after what feels like an hour, breathless and a deep feeling of love and sadness settles into Dan’s chest as Phil rolls off of his naked body. He’s being passed his shirt and pants again, and usually they’d settle for falling asleep together naked and bare, but there’s a look of slight anxiety that sits behind Phil’s eyes as he pulls up his own pants over his legs rather quickly. And Dan doesn’t blame him.

They don’t get much sleep after that, but when Dan eventually wakes up from the half-sleep he managed to grab onto, he’s crying. He’s done a lot of crying over the last couple of days, and he’s not always sure what he’s crying for.

He could be crying for their lost neighbour next door, a name he never bothered to learn with a face he can’t quite remember. He could be crying for his home he’s about to leave on a whim. He could be crying because he’s scared to leave these precious walls of safety. Or he could be crying for the rest of the world; he’s not sure anymore.

“We should carry light,” Phil tells him as he throws him a hoodie. They’re going to just keep the clothes on their back and not risk getting caught or trapped whilst doing something and stupid as changing into fresh jeans. Dan doesn’t know when the next time he’ll have the chance to shower so old dirty clothes soon won’t matter at all.

Dan nods, “Yeah, okay.”

Dan knows Phil’s just basing half his decisions on the many apocalyptic tv shows they’d spent so many hours watching. That Phil is probably racking his brain desperately to come up with something, anything from perhaps an episode of The Walking Dead to help them.

He remembers one night after a Walking Dead marathon with burgers and sex and kisses that they lay on their bed back in their first London apartment, naked and blissed out, when Dan had leant over and pressed his lips against Phil’s bare shoulder, tasting the salt of his sweat and the sweetness of his skin and asked him,

_“In the event of an apocalypse, what would you bring with you?”_

_And Phil had laughed breathlessly and kissed Dan back on his lips and pulled away slowly and said,_

_“You. Always.”_

And now Dan stood in their darkened bedroom as Phil moved around their room, clutching their backpack with shaky hands and tears in his eyes as he frantically tried to pack away their lives into one small bag.

Dan moved across the room and cupped his face with his hands, calming him for a second, pressing their foreheads together, when Phil let out a sigh. Dan let his eyes slip shut for a moment,

“We’ll be okay.” Dan told him quietly.

He wasn’t sure if they would be okay. He wasn’t sure if they’d make it two steps out the door and for it to be all over for them. He had no idea what the hell was about to happen once they left this apartment; once they left behind their moon room with their life still hung up on walls and in furniture and on shelves in books and box sets. 

But it didn’t matter about leaving these memories behind when he was taking the man that he created them all with him.

“Let’s go then.” Phil nodded and they pulled apart.

They take a few medical supplies; some ibuprofen and bandages, scraping together barely enough from their dusty medical cupboard. They don't have nearly enough but they go along with the promise that they'll pick things up along the way. Whether it be from asking another person for help, or just having to take it; it wont matter. Phil throws his contacts away and takes his glasses with him instead.

Dan stands in their bathroom and brushes his teeth one last time, just to cling to the familiar minty feeling in his mouth one last time before he spits into the sink. He doesn’t wash it away, he couldn’t anyway, there was no more running water, and so he walks out.

It was time to go. The sun was beginning to rise and shadows began to cast over their furniture and belongings; almost like the sun was kissing them all goodbye with a warm orange glow.

Dan did take something though. He grabbed his little wooden box beside his bed and stuffed it into his hoodie pocket, gripping it tightly. As he began to walk out their room his eyes caught sight of his old childhood bear. The same bear his grandma gifted to him when he was a baby; the same bear he took to uni and cuddled nights he missed Phil.

He looked at it sadly, and left it on the edge of the bed. When he walked out, he closed the door softly. Maybe he could preserve that tiny part of life. Maybe not. 

Phil was stood waiting in the living room, stood by the bookshelf, fingers ghosting over their boncas awards that stood proudly there. He looked sad, not for leaving them behind, but for the life that used to be.

“Ready to go?” Dan asks quietly, careful not to scare him, and Phil turns to face Dan, pulling his hand away.

“Yeah, c’mon let’s get out of here.”

They stand by the door, Phil’s hand on the handle when he takes a deep, shaky breath. Dan leans forward and kisses him quickly on the back of his neck, feeling the way his skin prickles and the tiny wisps of hair stand up.

Phil opens the door and they make their way out rather quickly. Once they’re out in the hallway, out of habit, Dan goes to lock the door behind them.

He stares at the door as Phil looks down the hallways nervously. He could easily leave it open for anyone to wonder in. It wouldn’t matter anymore who ends up using their home as a place to sleep, to cry, to die maybe.

But instead, he pulls the door shut and lifts the handle up, hearing it lock with a familiar lock. With their keys still inside, it’s like he’s sealed the fate of their home with the one swift motion.

Phil’s hand rests gently on his shoulder and Dan almost jumps. His expression relaxes when Phil motions for them to leave, and Dan nods.

They make their way down the hallway towards the stairs, walking past their neighbour’s apartment, hearing the groans and cries from inside. Dan holds his breath and sticks closely to Phil.

Their hands slip into each other’s and they make their way down the stairway, descending further and further until they miserable tones of their trapped neighbour begin to fade.

The eventually get to the bottom of the stairs and reach the front door. It's empty and cold down here, void of any signs of life that once bustled through this front door. People and faces they chose to avoid when they first moved here simply for the sake of less human interaction. But now there's nobody. No woman with her dog pulling at the leash, no man offering to hold to door open for them, no young flirty couple stood in the way with their lips smacking against each others. Now it was a horrible, dead silence. Too silent for the usual busy London life.

They don’t waste any more time dwelling on the past or what could have been, and so with that Phil pushes the door and they step out into the unknown of the outside world. A world that’s turned very lonely and fearful. A world that neither of them know anymore. A world so different from what they already knew a loved. A world they’ll have to fight to survive in. 

Together, at least.


	2. Chapter 2

They can’t stay anywhere for too long. Become too comfortable and you become an easy target for the horrors that wander the streets in which they live on now.   
  
It’s been a couple of days, Dan thinks, since the world went to shit. It feels like this is it now; days and nights bleed into one big nightmare, and nothing feels like it’ll ever be the same. He misses the sense of familiarity. He misses the idea of having his old life back; the hope that maybe things will snap back into place and they can all go home seems like a washed out idea now.  
  
Dan is awake again. It’s dawn. The apartment they’re in is lit up in an orange haze as the sun begins to rise above the horizon, looming over the city buildings that lay dormant and empty now. It’s a shame there’s not a lot of people left to appreciate the sunrise.

Phil sleeps beside him. He looks peaceful and content but Dan knows that at the slightest movement or sound, he’ll jolt awake with wide eyes, searching for Dan and an escape. He finds himself watching Phil sleep carefully these days. He’s so afraid to let his eyes slip shut. He’s afraid that if he falls asleep he’ll wake up dead and end up hurting Phil. Or the other way round. Either way, his overly-anxious brain that had spent many nights in his life keeping him awake at stupid hours of the morning comes in handy when it comes to watching over his boyfriend to crawling out of bed as someone he’s not. It eases that anxiety just a little.

The sun bursts into the sky and the world lights up. A world not even worth living in anymore. The sun doesn’t care that the earth occupants have all gone; it’ll continue to rise and set until it won’t no more. The sun doesn’t care if no one is around to watch it.

But Dan watches anyway.

They’re on the ground floor of an apartment. It’s a tiny studio apartment with one bed pressed up against the wall. The kitchen is a foot away – not that it matters. There’s no food here.

There’s a shower in the bathroom with no water to pour from it and there’s polaroid’s of strangers taped to the wall. Dan tears his gaze away from the orange sky to look over them again.  
  
A student, perhaps. A young twenty something with friends and a girlfriend and a smile. Her life is pinned up on the wall beside the bed that Phil sleeps in for now, and it makes Dan sad.   
  
A lot of things make Dan feel sad now. A lot of things make Dan want to cry and scream and crawl up on the floor and lay there and sob until something gets him and takes him away from this. But when Phil pulls him into his arms and holds him like he’ll never let go, he decides to want to keep going. For Phil, at least.

There’s a fly sat on the windowsill. It crawls around, buzzing it wings, lifting its fat little body up and then back down as it roams around. Dan watches it, and wonders if flies perhaps fear death. If maybe they have that hollow feeling of impending death settle into their minuscule chest. Or if maybe they don’t care, or know enough about time to fear it at all. He watches the little fly hum away as it picks itself up and flies away past Dan, blissfully unaware of his presence there.

Or maybe it was, and it just didn’t care.

Either way, Dan doubts that flies fear the imminent promise of death like people do. Or like people _did_. Death, perhaps, has engulfed this way of life, leaving not many people left to fear it. The ones that get left behind are left to stand in the face of it and be scared. Dan doesn’t want to be one of those people. He wishes he’d been one of the people to have death take him and take that fear from him, but he’s here instead, sat on the edge of someone’s bed looking out at the world that was destroyed by the one thing they feared the most.

Phil wakes soon after the sun rises in the sky, pulling himself out of bed to make his way to the bathroom.

As he pee’s with the door open, Dan wishes he could see the sky from the top floor. They’d decided to keep low and stay on the ground, not wanting to risk being trapped on the eighteenth floor with something bad with no way of getting out. Dan wishes for their Manchester apartment with the balcony and the breakfast bar and everything else. But he can’t take so much time thinking about that anymore. But it’s hard.

“Wanna take anything from here?” Phil asks softly after walking out the bathroom, zipping his fly up quickly. Dan shakes his head,

“Nothing here,” he tells him soberly. Phil just nods his head and slips his shoes back on.

“Let’s go then.”  
  
They pack up their bags again, just the singular backpack they’ll share on their backs and leave again.

They’re heading to Reading. That’s the plan so far.

They’d talked about it and cried over the possibilities of where to go; where to even start, but decided to head towards Wokingham, hopefully find Dan’s mum and then get out of Reading and go to Land’s End. Somewhere small and quiet. Somewhere safe.

They’d thought about Manchester, or Brighton maybe, but they were far too populated. London was too dangerous. Nothing felt safe anymore, nothing but maybe the promise of the end of their piece of the world where they could stand on the edge at look out the sea and maybe find some peace. Whatever that means.

Phil had shaken and whispered the truth that he’d never see his parents again. He let tears slip down his face one night when he choked out a sob in the form of his mum’s name. Dan had gripped onto him and cried with him. They’d never get to the Isle of Man. They’d possibly never see them again. They didn’t even know if they were alive.

They never heard or saw from Martyn or Cornelia. Dan had suggested to take a detour back into London to go find them but Phil had shaken his head with a watery smile and told him it was too dangerous.   
  
Some losses hurt the most, and they were by far the worst.

Although Phil liked to think his parents made it. That they were secluded away from the horror and the destruction and that they hauled themselves up in their little house up on the Cliffside and prepared to live their lives out up there alone together.

Or maybe it didn’t happen like that at all – but Phil ignored those thoughts that would come crawling to him as he tried to sleep.

His parents would be okay. They’d be safe.

They continue walking for a couple of hours before they both start to get hungry. Gone were the times where Dan would come through the door with an armful of pizza and an obscene amount of dips in the other. The days were Phil would tease him for such amount of food were no more. No longer would Dan laugh loudly and place their pizzas down in front of the couch and smile and say,  
  
_“We’re all gonna die someday Phil, I might as well indulge myself now before it’s too late.”_

They find an empty looking corner shop a couple of streets down; the windows are smashed in and the door looks like it was kicked in, but they go in anyways. They grab all the food they can; some bread that looks like it’ll last another few days, some canned tomatoes and a little tin of sardines.

There’s a shelf at the back that has about thirteen bottles of water. Dan makes his way towards them and begins piling them into his arms. He takes them all, besides one, and leaves it sat on the shelf. For someone else. It’s the least he can do.

He returns to Phil at the front of the shop, and throws the bottles of water into their open bag along with their other finds.

Phil has his gaze fixated on something, and when Dan follows it, his lips curl into a small smile. It’s sweets.

“Wanna indulge ourselves?” Phil asks quietly with a smile. Dan nods as he begins to pluck handfuls of sweets and chocolates off the shelves.

They eat, and eat and eat, and Dan can’t help but let out a little moan of joy as he feels the sugar pulse back into his body. Phil does the same as he rips open a Dip Dab, letting his mouth hang open and tilts his head back throwing the sugary powder into his mouth.

Dan laughs, a mouthful of skittles, and he doesn’t care if he has a rainbow of spit drooling from his chin because Phil is laughing back with sugar round his lips.

“C’mere,” Dan mumbles, swallowing down his food and pulling Phil in by the collar of his hoodie.

He presses his lips to his, licking the sherbet off them, before Phil parts his lips and their tongues slide past each other. It’s hot and nice and familiar. They stand there, kissing for a moment when Dan pulls away for air. Phil has the goofiest grin plastered on his face and Dan’s sure he’s got one to match.

Phil goes to open his mouth to say something, when there’s a clang and a crash coming from the back of the store. His mouth snaps shut and he whips round, grabbing Dan’s arm tightly.  
  
Dan’s heart is thudding heavily in his chest; so hard and fast that he’s sure it’s echoing around the room loud enough for whatever that lurks at the back of the store to hear them.

Phil turns back to Dan, his hand still balled up in the sleeve of his hoodie and pulls him away towards the door.

He pushes him out as quickly as he can and pulls him down the street as they make their getaway.

His heart is still thumping and his brain is pounding against his skull. He’s scared. And as Phil continues to grip onto him tightly as they continue to briskly walk down the small street, tears burn behind his eyes.

He looks over at Phil; his dorky smile from seconds ago has been replaced by a tight lipped frown and his sparkling eyes are dull now. They’re fearful.

Dan blinks and tears streak down his face silently. The further away the get from the store, the less intense Phil’s grip becomes on his arm. But Dan doesn’t want him to let go. He doesn’t want Phil’s fingers to slip away from his sleeve or for the force of his pulling to weaken.

And they don’t. They walk for what seems like forever in silence. He looks again at Phil and notices he’s crying behind his glasses. His eyelashes wet and lip trembling.

“Phil,” Dan whispers weakly. He can barely use his voice as it cracks and crumbles in his throat, and Phil looks round at him, not stopping or slowing his pace at all, to look at him with a sad look.

“I know.” Phil tells him. “Let’s just keep going.”  
  
And so they do. They keep going.  



	3. Chapter 3

They feel like they’re the last ones left on earth. It’s been days and they hadn’t seen a soul. Days of wandering the streets with tired eyes and sore feet. Dan’s bones feel heavy in his own body and his brain feels weak. They move early in the morning and rest as the sun goes down; it’s the only time it’s safe to move out in open spaces. They’ll hear the odd shuffle of slow, sluggish feet in alleyways far away from them; but they pose no threat. They don’t know what they really are, other than past people, creatures that once had lives and memories. But now they’re nothing but threat that they avoid and listen out for during the dark cold nights.

They sleep more, and eat less; only because they have nothing.

The water dwindles down quickly and Phil cries when he realises there’s not much left. Dan tells him not to cry with a broken sob of his own, telling him his tears are a waste.

They cry some more after that.

They make it to Reading, and once they step back there Dan wants to find the energy to run towards home. But instead he and Phil slowly and surely make their way to Wokingham.   
  
As Dan walks the familiar streets of his childhood he thinks back about his old life here. His oldest life. The one before Phil, before Manchester, before London and before all the good things happened. He almost laughs at how ironic is seems; that being back here is the sense of something terrible. Whether it be terrible years of teenage depression and loneliness, or the end of the world – the universe seems to make it clear to Dan that this is the place that brings him to the worst of things. He just hopes that this time is different.

They finally make it to Dan’s long stretch of street and Dan can feel his heart in his mouth as they make their way to his house. He begs for his mum to be there, his grandma to open the door and greet him with her warm open arms. He cries thinking about how maybe his brother would be sat in the kitchen with Colin in his arms and how maybe even his dad would be there to hold him and tell him it’ll be alright.

He wishes, and wishes and wishes for it all. And when he reaches the front door, to find it already open, does that all seem to drain away. He frantically pushes it open with a slam and stumbles through the door.

The same doorway he would walk in and out of to school. He makes his way through the hallway. There’s little marks against the wall where over the years he’d slam the door against the wall in a temper. There’s also faded pencil marks that grow taller over time.

He reaches the kitchen and is greeted by silence. No family around the table or dog at his feet.

His heart is pounding against his ribs and his lungs tighten as he searches for them. But the room is empty and a dining table chair lays on its side against the floor.

The backdoor glass has been smashed and a chill comes in through the jagged edges and runs up his skin like ice.

He goes to scream, to cry, to yell but he’s being yanked back. He kicks out, fear thrumming through his body, and he screams. He lets it all out with a blood curdling scream ripping and clawing at his throat.

He tries to pull himself away from whatever has him, and he kicks his legs back and fights.

He screams again and they slowly turn to sobs. He hears a soothing voice, and the arms that hold him wrap around his chest until hands are over his heart where they can feel the heavy thud under his skin.  
  
Phil holds him until he can breathe again. He presses his chest up close to his back, tight and secure. His head rests between his shoulder blades as Dan stands with his head down and cries at his empty kitchen.

He cries until there’s no more tears left in his body to cry, and Phil still holds him with his hands placed over his heart.

Time seems to go still, like the world had just paused in the middle of space.

“We can’t stay here, Dan.” Phil whispers against his neck. He sounds so tired and so sad and Dan isn’t sure he has the energy to even speak or move. But he pulls himself away from the warmth that Phil provides him and nods.

They can’t stay any longer. Definitely not with Dan’s screams probably still ringing out between empty and abandoned houses. Phil checks the fridge for something. There’s nothing.

Dan doesn’t want to leave. He doesn’t want to go and face the emptiness of what lies outside anymore. He wants to climb the stairs to his mum’s room and curl up under the covers and have her pet his hair like she’d done so many times.

He wants to call his grandma and cry to her about how hard this is. How scary and awful this all is; but he can’t.

He wants to be a kid again and sit at the kitchen table and babble on to his dad about what he learnt at school that day. He wants to play ddr in the living room with his brother until they fall about laughing because they keep tripping each other up in an attempt to win the game. He wants to hold his dog in his arms as he falls asleep on the sofa and have his mum pull a blanket over his shoulders.

He can’t cry anymore. It’s physically impossible, so instead his body hiccups a dry sob. He closes his eyes and lets his heart calm inside his chest. He opens them again once Phil is beside him with a gentle hand on his shoulders.

“Dan,” is all he says. It’s all it takes for them to get moving out the door and away from where Dan’s hope once sat.

There’s no parents to hold them and help them. No mum’s to press kisses into her boys’ hair and no dad’s to protect them anymore.

It’s just them now. It’s just Dan and Phil.

Dan holds onto Phil’s hand and squeezes. It’d always been Dan and Phil. Just them in their own world, but with extra background noise for comfort. And now that was gone, it was just them again. Phil squeezes back. They can do this.

They take refuge in an old house a couple of streets down. The check the rooms and check again and when they’ve locked themselves in one of the bedrooms with a chair in front of the door, they flop onto the bed. Phil kicks off his shoes and pulls Dan’s off too, and once Phil is laying down beside him, he crawls up beside him, going as small and tight as possible. Phil runs a hand through his hair and presses kisses against his greasy curls. His mum might not be here to soothe away the pain and hurt he has with her hands running through his hair, but he still has Phil. And that’s more than he could ask for.

He feels his eyes droop shut and body grow heavier against the bed. There’s something in him that wills him to stay awake just a little longer – just to open his eyes and savour this moment with the man he loves. To hold him and talk to him and tell him he loves him, because time truly is precious now. He can’t cry but he feels that snap in his chest where tears would usually fall.

He forces his eyes open to look up at Phil. He pulls his mouth into a smile,  
  
“Talk to me?” His voice is raspy and hoarse from earlier. Phil’s lips twitch up into a small smile.

“Okay,” he says in a quiet voice, his fingers still carding through his curls, “what do you wanna talk about?” he asks.  
  
“Talk to me about animals. It doesn’t matter if I’ve heard them before, just talk about animal facts. Please, just talk to me,” Dan says in a wobbly voice. Phil nods and leans forward to press a quick kiss on his nose,  
  
“Okay.” He clears his throat, “Okay, so I read that snails can sleep for three years straight, like that’s the most useful talent in the world and snails are the ones that ended up with it,” he laughs quietly and Dan laughs back.

“Elephants can’t jump.” Phil tells him another. Dan raises an eyebrow and Phil nods, “It’s true.”

“A shrimp’s heart is in its head,” Phil whispers and Dan gives a breathy laugh,  
  
“That sounds poetic as fuck.”  
  
Phil laughs back, “Maybe shrimp like poetry.”  
  
Dan shakes his head as he snuggles in closer, getting in as tight as he can,  
  
“Is that another animal fact?” He teases and Phil just pokes him in the shoulder.

“But did you know,” Phil starts, “that koala’s have such indistinguishable fingerprint’s to humans that they’ve actually be confused for them at crime scenes.”  
  
Dan laughs, pressing his head into Phil’s chest as he hums out a laugh. Phil laughs with him and he feels the rumble of it against his ribs.  
  
His laugh dies out when he feels that horrible sad feeling creep back over him again.  
  
“Remember Dewy?” Dan finds himself saying out loud, and Phil stops laughing too.

“Yeah, babe. I remember him.” Phil whispers, hugging Dan tight.

“Remember that trip to Australia? God that was so fucking good.” Dan sighs sadly.

Phil says nothing more but traces his fingers down Dan’s neck until his hands reach his back where he rubs big, slow circles with the palm of his hand.

“Everything we did was good,” Phil whispers. It sends a wave of chills up Dan’s skin, because it’s true; everything they did together was always good. Even when it seemed like it wasn’t at the time, looking back now Dan realises they’ve always had it so, _so_ good.

They lay there, holding each other silently for a while, pressing closer and closer until there’s no more room between them.

“Do you think it’ll be alright, in the end?” Dan asks quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

He waits for the answer, he holds his breath.  
  
“I don’t know, Dan.” Phil tells him. “I don’t know.”  
  



	4. Chapter 4

They make it Land’s End. They make it on stolen energy bars that they find and drinking water from old bottles that doesn’t sit in their stomachs right. They make it through tears and heartache and tired, heavy bones and weary eyes.

They make it to the end of the country for the end of the world. That was the idea from the get-go; to make it to the sea, somewhere quiet and secluded and hold out until help arrived. That was, if help would ever arrive. They make talks about perhaps going out to sea; packing up what they find and taking someone else’s boat and living their lives out on the waves. It’s not the best idea seeing as they’d have to come back and forth for supplies. But it’s not the worst idea either.

But for now they’re settling for staying on the cliffs and rolling with the idea that maybe someone will pass them, see them and help them out. For now, Land’s End is their last real hope of survival.

There’s none of the usual farm yard animals grazing, or chickens clucking around by their feet, but instead, just emptiness.

They don’t make it here with Dan’s mum, or Martyn and Cornelia or Colin or friends or family. They make it here together, alone. 

It’s cold. The sea air is harsh and biting, and it nips at their skin as they trudge up a hill with both hoodie hoods pulled tightly over their heads as they struggle on up.

There’s a little shack, just a few feet away, and it should be able to offer them some sort of warmth. They’ll be nothing there worth their time though; it’s nothing but an old information desk for passing visitors with leaflets and pamphlets that advertise the exciting world around them to people looking for something to do. It’s all pointless now.

They keep on walking until the reach the little hut. It stands alone amongst the cliffside, with the ocean waves crashing miles down below just behind it.

Dan continues to walk, his head down, when he smacks right into the back of Phil who’s suddenly gone very still.

Panic flares up through his veins and burns his throat like bile when he moves to stand side by side to Phil.

“What?” He whispers out, a little louder over the crashing waves that drown his tired voice out.

He looks around quickly. He can’t see the danger. Not yet at least.

“There,” Phil tells him in a low voice, and points to the window of the hut.

Dan’s heart sinks to the bottom of his feet when he spots what Phil is seeing. There in the window of their hut, their last real hope, stands a tall, lanky figure. They’re looking right at Dan and Phil stood just a couple of feet away, eyes locked. 

They’re not the same though. It’s evident in the way their jaw hangs loosely off their paled face, a line of drool spilling from their bottom lip like a shoelace. From here Dan can make out the way the whites of their eyes are now a yellow colour instead. Their face is sunken in and their hair is nothing but thin wispy strands that seems to cling on to their blistered looking scalp.

Phil chokes out a sob.

“Fuck.”

Dan isn’t sure what to say. What to do.

“We - we came all this fucking way. There’s nothing fucking here, Dan.” Phil cries. He balls his fists in anger and digs his nails into his palms. 

Dan pulls his hand apart and holds onto them. His hands are a little warmer than Phil’s so he grabs them and squeezes them tightly.

“I can’t do this. We can’t get in there. We’re going to freeze to fucking death.” Phil is breathing heavily now, his lips trembling as tears well up in his big sad, blue eyes.

Dan shakes his head. He wriggles his toes to try and regain the feeling in them again.

“We can do this, okay? We can find a way. Okay?” Dan tells him. He pulls him in for a tight hug, but the creature in the hut slams his body up against the window, rattling it, and they both pull apart quickly, still gripping onto each other though.

“There’s a barn back there, yeah?” Dan suggests. Phil sniffs, and nods.

“Fuck. Yeah, okay.”

The barn offers little to no warmth. There’s no security so it seems tonight it another sleepless night. It reminds Dan of the nights Phil would roll out of bed and when Dan would try and pull him back into his arms, he’d laugh, press a kiss on his lips and tell him he’d pass the time filming a video. He could laugh and cry at how they tried to make it obvious that they weren’t sharing a bed. That Phil hadn’t just climbed out of Dan’s warm arms where he slept every night. That when the camera shut off and Phil smiled a goodbye, that he would pad back to his real bed, with his real boyfriend beside him and press his cold body up against his warm one. 

But that doesn’t matter now. A world where Dan’s biggest fear was perhaps announcing to a YouTube audience that he was in love with his best friend seemed far off and distant now. His biggest fear now was freezing to death with said love of his life, because everyone around them is dead, or undead, and a horrible monster is occupying their last hope of staying warm and staying alive.

“We could make a fire?” Phil suggests through chattering teeth. The sun is beginning to set, and if Dan wasn’t deadly afraid of the dark before, he is now.

And as the sun begins to disappear under the horizon of the sea, Dan thinks that at least in some parts of the world, it’s the morning. That someone else will be waking up, grateful for another day.

“Yeah, okay.” Dan nods, rubbing his hands together.

They collect some sticks and some straw and make a little pile of rocks for it to sit on. Neither of them are particularly camp savvy but it looks like it’ll work.

Phil pulls the little box of matches they’d found a few days ago from the bottom of their bag and used a shaky hand to strike the match to life. It gives a little roar as the flame erupts from the end and he quickly throws it down onto the pile and watches parts begin to catch fire.

It’s not big enough. Not strong enough. It begins to burn quickly, and the match burns out.

“Fuck. Shit.” Phil curses, taking another match. There’s only about five left, and as Phil attempts to light another Dan is sure it won’t work.

“Phil, babe, I don’t think it’s gonna work.” Dan tells him softly as Phil continues to drag and drag the match against the box, getting more and more aggressive each time.

He stops and looks up with an angry looking frown,

“What?”

“The fire,” Dan says looking away from Phil’s glare to the sad pile of twigs and straw and leaves that sit, barely touched by the fire.

Phil sets the matches down with a huff,

“Well what do you suggest then?” He sounds angry and tired.

Dan closes his eyes and wills away any burning tears that start to creep behind his eyes. Now isn’t the time for arguments or tears.

He doesn’t fucking know what to do anymore. He has no clue how to make a proper fire or how to keep warm or how to fucking survive in a fucking zombie apocalypse. But he’s trying his damn hardest just to survive. But he doesn’t know if that’s enough anymore.

“I mean, unless you’ve got a sack full of coal and newspapers and an endless amount of lighters, then be my guest Dan, but for now let me try get warm enough to fucking try,” Phil hisses.

Dan wants to fight him and get angry, but he doesn’t. Instead he has an idea.

He snaps his mouth shut and reaches inside his hoodie pocket. He yanks out the little wooden box that’s been sat there all this time. He holds it up to Phil.

“Dan, I don’t think that’ll burn, babe.” Phil tells him sadly, his expression and tone softer this time. 

Dan shakes his head and uses shaky fingers to pry it open.

“Not the box,” Dan tells him, and opens the lid, pulling something out from inside.

It’s crumpled and a little torn but it’s there. He opens it up and presents it to Phil. His eyes scan over it and it’s like he’s melted. The tension in his shoulder ease and his lip trembles.

“You took that?” Phil asks with a watery voice. Tears slip down his face, unblinking and Dan nods.

“Of course I did.” Dan tells him with a smile.

There on the page is shaky, almost unreadable writing. The paper has been folded and screwed up and torn so much over the years that it’d be hard to read along with Dan’s handwriting.

But to them, they don’t need to read the words written across them to know what it says.

_“Why do you always draw cat whiskers on your face?”_

“You wanna burn it?” Phil asks, taking it delicately from Dan’s hands. Dan nods, passing it to him, their fingers brush against each other and Dan is sure it warms him slightly.

“It doesn’t matter to me. You’re freezing,” Dan tells him with a sniff of his nose. They’re both cold to the bone and as Dan pulls his knees to his chest, Phil’s hands tremble with the paper in his hands.  
  
“Seems weird now, doesn’t it?” Phil almost laughs, his voice weak and broken, as he holds the paper up and reads over it.  
  
Dan doesn’t need to ask what he means. It does seem weird now; that this paper was what inevitably created their careers. The questions written down in Dan’s chicken scratch handwriting was what bought them all the years of fame and success, all the money and wealth. That some people’s lives were centered around them both all because of the world they’d created around this scrappy piece of paper. All Dan couldn’t have asked for and more was because of that video, more or less. It was the beginning of something incredible, and Dan had kept it all these years simply as a thank you to it. As a respect of whatever power up in the sky had gifted him with that moment. That moment to fall in love with his soulmate.

And here it was now, in the claps of Phil’s shaking fingers, hovering over a fire pit, ready to be burned to keep them warm for just a few hours, until they know what else to do. What else to do to survive. Maybe it was the beginning of a new life.

“You okay?” Phil asks. He places a hand over Dan’s knee and Dan nods. He places his own hand on top and smiles.  
  
Phil begins to tear the paper. It rips and shreds, and Phil peppers it between the twigs and straw, pushing it down. He takes a match, strikes it hard against the box and it flickers to life.

They watch it burn, the amber light flickering and dancing, when Phil drops it into the fire. It works; the fire and heat spreading and growing and reaching the paper. Dan watches the little pieces of paper turn black and burn.

He doesn’t feel as sad as he thought he did. He flickers his gaze up to meet Phil’s who looks back at him with a warm smile. A warmer smile that no fire will ever match.  
  
The fire grows taller and burns bright, and grows hotter against his skin. It feels so good. He scoots closer to Phil and presses up against him, their shoulders touching tightly.

He lets his eyes slip shut for a second and thinks about how they’ll never make another pinof again. No more gaming videos or AmazingPhil stories. None of that will matter to Dan anymore. There’s no audience to tell; just them now.  
  
He opens his eyes and looks out of the barn in which they sit. The sun has gone from the sky and in its place is the moon. Just like every night.

Like the sun, the moon doesn’t care that life isn’t the same anymore. It will continue to light up the night sky with its rocky surface every night without fail. The moon doesn’t know or care that there may only be one person watching her anymore, one or two people left to lover her still, and admire her from here on the ground.

The world keeps on spinning even though everything feels like it’s stopped.

Dan drops his head onto Phil’s shoulder.

Dan’s world may have stopped; the world of Dan and Phil may have come screeching to a halt when things changed, but Dan knows that when things stop, they can only start up again. And whether it be from the same point, or starting something totally new, he knows that as long as he puts one foot in front of the other, he’ll continue to go. And as long as Phil is beside him, they’ll keep going. It’s scary and terrifying and beyond anything he knows, but they’ll do it. They’ll get by.

“So what now?” Phil asks quietly, his breath against Dan’s curls.

“Not sure yet,” is Dan’s response. He takes Phil’s hand in his and laces their fingers together.

They’ll just have to wait and see what dawn brings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading !!
> 
> come say hi on tumblr !! @watergator

**Author's Note:**

> new chapters coming each wednesday until 31st october !! hope you enjoy !! 
> 
> come say hi & perhaps reblog this fic on tumblr !! @watergator


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